And Then There Was Light
by AnthyRose
Summary: Nothing was set in stone, not even the future. And then they found HER. Another android created the same way as Cell. With no memory or power, they thought they could change her. But then something went horribly wrong. But nothing was set in stone...
1. The Other Android

(A/N: I finally got up enough courage to post this…btw, this'll be a Cell romance.) 

Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ…

Chapter One :The Other Android:

ooooo

:One Week Earlier:

They found her in the ruins of the old lab, the other android.

It was Krillin who'd discovered her. Krillin who'd stumbled into the back room and ran across the dusty old tank. Similar to the tank the being called Cell had been 'birthed' in, before Trunks had destroyed it.

It had been dark in the room. So dark that he'd had to strain to see inside, and then wipe his hands across the glass to clear away the thick layers of dust that topped it. He cupped his hands around his eyes, trying to make use of the miniscule light that came from the adjourning room.

Was that liquid? It certainly looked like it. Liquid that looked black from the lack of light. And in the middle of that liquid was something dark. Something large and dark and floating in the center of the tank.

A body. There was a body in the tank.

_Oh Kami_..

He screamed, falling backwards over some boxes the scientist had left littering the room.

Kami, but there was something in that tank. Alive or dead he had no idea. Even so it was enough to freak him out.

"Krillin!" it was Trunks. _He must have heard me_, he thought embarrassed, wiping a hand across his bald head.

"Krillin! Are you alright? I heard you shout." The demi-saiyan was flushed and slightly red. He'd been particularly vindictive in destroying Gero's Lab; something Krillin had been both surprised and disturbed about. He'd had the boy tagged as gentle and well mannered, but when it came to battle, he was anything BUT. Something changed in him when he fought. Something primitive and distinctly saiyan. At that moment Trunks reminded him eerily of Vegeta.

"Um…yea…I just saw something that freaked me out is all." He answered finally. Trunks frowned, attention currently diverted to the new room.

"I didn't know this part was here." His eyes came to rest on the tank, round and cloudy in the corner of the room. Krillin had no idea what was going on in the boy's head at the moment. His eyes, being half saiyan, were much better than his in the dark. Maybe he could see-

Trunks frowned, eyes furrowed, with a look of concentrated interest that could only come from having a scientist for a parent. He opened a hand, revealing a small ball of energy, and held it up to the tank like a flashlight.

A body.

A HUMAN body, floating curled in the fetal position. He couldn't see much else; only that the body was skinny; skeleton skinny, with long legs and arms. Web-like hair floated ghostly around what he guessed was a head.

He felt faint and nauseous; all he could remember was that time he'd let Yamucha trick him into watching _Night of the Living Dead_. Kami…

Trunks, he'd noticed after a while, seemed to be having a similar reaction. The boy looked pale; a thin sheen of sweat had broken out on his brow. _He's scared too_, he realized. It made him feel better, knowing that the demi-saiyan was just as frightened as he himself was.

But a moment later his relief was shattered when Trunks spoke.

"I didn't realize our timelines were so different…" he shook his head slowly, words no louder than a mumble. "Just how many of these creatures _are_ there in this time?"

What? Did he mean-

"You mean….this is another android!" his eyes widened and he could only stare dumbly at the spindly figure in the bubble shaped tank. Trunks nodded, not even bothering to take his eyes from murky liquid.

"Another Cell, from the looks of things. I guess _he_ was planning on making an army of biomechanical androids." His voice was thick with disgust as he referred to the late Dr. Gero. "Though it looks as if this one was further along than Cell." He was talking about the Cell they'd previously destroyed in the other tank, Krillin knew. Kami only knew where the current Imperfect Cell was hiding.

He looked up just as Trunks laid his palm against the glass, Vegeta style. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened next.

"W-what are you doing?" but he already knew.

"I'm destroying it, of course. We certainly don't need any more of these creatures to deal with." His voice was firm; it booked no argument. At that moment Krillin felt about three years old.

_An image of Blond hair and slanted blue eyes blinked before his face. He felt her soft kiss, like butterfly wings, on his cheek. Her throaty laugh floated around him-_

Android 18.

"No wait!" he didn't realize he was doing it until Trunks was tugging his hand away from his grip.

"Krillin? What's wrong with you?" he looked confused, slightly annoyed and Krillin had to wonder himself just what was going on in his own head.

"I…I just.."

_The teasing lilt of her voice…_

Trunks was looking at him as if he'd lost it. And maybe he had. But in the next moment he found himself saying words that sounded completely unbelievable, even to his own ears.

"What if we brought this one back to the lab, y'know….for Bulma and her Dad to look at? I mean, if this one was created in the same way as Cell, then we might be able to find a weakness, right? Maybe…maybe create like, some kind of medicine or serum or something from this ones blood, and-" He paused at Trunks' wry smirk.

_Ok….maybe that WAS a little much._

He decided to try again.

"I mean…..at the very least we'd have a better idea on how Cell works…" That was it. The teen was shaking his head, staring at Krillin as if he'd grown scales and horns. He looked back at the tank wordlessly, then down again at the shorter man.

_He's considering it…_

"That's completely absurd, Krillin." But he was frowning, looking narrowed eyed into the tank at the creature in it's simulated womb. "Why would we revive another one when we already have three more plus Cell to deal with? You've been watching way too many Sci Fi movies." "But this one can help us _defeat _Cell! It's worth a shot, right? I mean, it's not like we're gonna…..wake it up or anything, right?" he shook his head helplessly. "It probably wouldn't survive that long outside that bubble thing anyway…" it was actually a pretty good idea, he commended silently to himself. He was shocked he'd even come up with such a concept, really.

Trunks was still looking doubtful.

"It looks like it's already pretty well advanced. Theoretically it _could _survive independently…" he was staring again into the tank with an almost professional interest. But an instant later the look was gone, replaced by a hard glint, and for a moment Krillin was worried. Was he going to destroy it? Would he….? The image of 18 again flashed before his eyes. It would be wrong to destroy this android, wouldn't it? It hadn't even DONE anything yet… But then the boy suddenly sighed. A resigned sigh, one that made Krillin wonder, not for the first time, just what sorts of horror the teen had gone through back in his time.

"Fine. We'll take it back. But only to find a weakness for Cell, ok? Nothing else. We aren't reviving it or anything like that. And when we're done with it.." he trailed off, not finishing his statement. He didn't have to. Krillin had only nodded grimly.

That had been a week ago.

And now as Krillin stared down at the dark, emaciated figure on the examining table, he had to wonder just what he'd gotten them all into.

oooooo

She awoke distorted and in pain. And with no idea where she was. Her breath came in short flurries and her body felt cold and stiff. She shifted slightly, in an effort to sit up.

Big mistake.

Sharp daggers of pain drove themselves through her, forcing away all rational thought. I'm dying, she thought wildly. I'm dying and my body is shutting down and that's why I hurt-

It took a moment for her to realize that the pain was ebbing away. As long as I don't move I don't hurt, she thought foggily. A sort of numbness snaked through her. She lay there, still as stone, her mind slowly becoming awake and assessing the situation.

Where was she? The last thing she remembered was-

Well, she didn't _remember_. And as she lay there, waiting for the inevitable memories to resurface, waiting for her mind to refresh itself after the shock of waking, nothing appeared. No sudden flood of memory, no familiar words or images. Nothing. As if she hadn't existed at all before she'd awoke.

_Stupid_. That was a stupid thought. And she gritted her teeth and sat up. The pain was sudden and severe…and a welcome wake up call. As long as there was pain she knew she was awake. She was _here_. She wasn't just dreaming or something…

Around her, the room was dark and still. It made her feel strangely small; small and alone in the emptiness of the room. The _unfamiliar _room, she corrected herself. And-

-where _was _she?

Her mind couldn't let go of this thought. It ran rampant, in circles through her head like a tape stuck on rewind. She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't where she was before-

But where exactly had she _been _before?

It didn't make sense; NOTHING made sense, and now the pain was coming back, a dull throb that grew inside her until her vision dimmed and she collapsed on the bed in wracking sobs. Tearless sobs, because for some reason her body didn't seem capable of emitting liquid.

Dehydration, a part of her vaguely noted. Her mouth was bone dry and her throat tasted of dried blood.

I'm really dying, she thought again, bordering on hysteria. _I'm dying and I'm alone and no one will ever know_. I'll die in the dark in a strange room-

And suddenly there were hands on her, dragging her up by the armpits, shaking her. Something sharp punctured her neck and almost immediately her head went clear of the obsessive thoughts. Her chest rose in wheezing gasps.

"…wrong with her?"

"……lack of mobile control.."

"…stunted development-"

She was aware of the speech above her, disjointed phrases that didn't seem as important as what was currently happening with her body. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, but at least the pain was gone. All that was left was an eerie calmness. Calmness? _Completely _inappropriate for the situation. She wanted to scream, wanted to move, to demand answers, but her body felt like dead weight, and already the hands were releasing her.

"I think the tranq kicked in. Think she can talk?" Tranq? As in Tranquilizer? _They tranquilized me like some animal?_

"She should be able to," the other voice answered. "Hold on. Lemme hit the light." There was a pause, then movement, and bright fluorescent light flooded the room. She winced, squinted, squeezing her eyes shut, and speckles of green and red danced beneath her eye lids.

"Are you ok?" It took a moment before she realized that the question was being directed at _her_. She cautiously opened her eyes, millimeter by millimeter, until they adjusted to the light.

"Can she hear us?" The person above her, a woman, made a noise of irritation.

"That's a stupid question, Krillin." she turned back to the girl. "How do you feel?" At the moment, she couldn't feel anything, she realized. Her head was swimming and her vision was blurred and fuzzed.

There's something wrong with my eyes. What's wrong with my eyes-

"What am I doing here?" There was silence, and a second later she realized the words had come from _her_. That ugly croaking voice was _hers_. Repulsion filled her, followed by a ghost of a pain in her throat. It was almost as if she'd never spoken before. The sensation was….odd.

Apparently the people above her thought so too. It was a moment before either of them responded.

"We……found you. You had been abandoned and we brought you back here. You were in pretty awful shape though. We didn't know if you'd pull through, to be honest. You're obviously a very strong girl." The woman smiled slightly, brushing pale aquamarine hair from her face.

_I was abandoned?_ But try as she might she could summon no sadness, no anger. Simply because she had no memory of anything before waking up. There was only confusion. _But…somebody didn't want me. Somebody left me someplace..._

But why?

"You're severely malnourished," the woman was going on. "Dangerously dehydrated..it's a miracle you're even _alive _right now-"

"Wh…why can't I remember anything?" Her halting speech was raspy and dry, and now a definite pain exploded in her throat. The woman paused as if considering her question, then seemed to disregard it all together, gesturing instead behind her towards the other person she'd forgotten was even there.

"This is Krillin. He's one of the guys who found you and brought you here." A muffled salutation was said from across the room, but she barely noticed. Whatever they'd given her was beginning to wear off; she felt the obsessive thoughts returning, jumbled and pixilated in her head.

"My name is Bulma."

What's _my _name, she wanted to ask. But she didn't think her throat could take another onslaught of speaking. It felt shredded already, and she thought she could taste fresh blood.

The woman, or Bulma as she'd called herself, seemed to notice.

"Oh! I'm sorry…let me get you some water."

She never got the chance.

The door swung suddenly open, sending a blast of cool air that swayed even the lank hair that clung matted to her scalp, and the room went deathly still. She couldn't see who it was that had entered; only a pale blur that stayed fixated in the doorway. For a moment no one said anything; she got the distinct feeling that the two had been caught doing something terribly wrong. The air seemed charged with anger. And then the blur spoke.

"Tell me you didn't," he said softly. A man, she realized. The other person who had entered was male. But a young one. He didn't sound quite as old as the man Bulma called Krillin. Though she could tell even through her distorted vision that he was none-the-less significantly taller.

"T-Trunks!..." From somewhere in the room, Krillin gave a decidedly nervous laugh. Above her, Bulma simply sighed. But the boy, Trunks, wasn't finished.

"Even after all I've told you. Even after everything you've seen so far. You have no idea what you've just done." He spoke evenly, and with such flat finality that it unnerved her. Apparently she wasn't the only one who felt this way, because there was a brief hesitation before anyone replied.

"Trunks! C'mon! Honestly you didn't think I'd let a perfectly good-" a glance at the bed stopped Bulma mid-speech. "I mean, you didn't think I would just let her _die_?" Die?Were they talking about _her?_

The boy didn't answer, and for minutes it seemed, the room remained silent. Then there was movement; the sound of shoes against linoleum. The boy was coming into the room. He stopped abruptly at the foot of the bed, one hand coming to rest firmly on the metal railing. With him this close, she could get a near perfect view of him.

And she was stunned.

His eyes were blue. The same cerulean blue as Bulma's, actually. Well, almost. His lacked that bright, whimsy glow that hers seemed to hold. They were also more serious, more…..wary? But perhaps what struck her the most about him was his hair. As compliant and fine as liquid silk. And pale too. But hued in the most delicate shade of lavender. No, not lavender exactly, she corrected. More like lilac.

_He's pretty_…she realized suddenly, unable to let go of those eyes. Vaguely she was conscious of a voice telling her that boys were not pretty. This was a feminine connotation. But she ignored it, letting it fall back into the banks of her mind. He was staring at her too, she saw, except that his face was twisted into a hateful scowl. She wondered absently what he looked like when he smiled. As if sensing her thoughts, his expression darkened, icy eyes narrowing bitterly into a glare. She felt herself cringe under the heat of that furious gaze. This boy, for whatever reason, did not like her.

"Listen to me," Bulma remarked firmly. "Look at her. Do you really believe she could do anything in this shape?" They _are _talking about me, she realized with sudden clarity. His face wore an unreadable expression, like a blank slate.

"I hope," came the quiet reply, "for all of your sakes that she can't."

And then he turned and left the room, letting the door bang firmly behind him. It was a finality that slammed into her consciousness like the end of a song. He thought she was dangerous. Her. Probably they all did.

_ME. I can't even remember my name and he thinks-_

She stared down at the hands lying limply on the bed. _Her _hands. They were skinny and awkward, dark against the pristine whiteness of the sheets. The fingers themselves were long and bony, a dusky color she couldn't describe. They looked frail and ugly; nothing more than skin stretched taunt over bone. She couldn't imagine the rest of her looked any better.

A feeling of anguished despair hit her in the pit of her stomach. _What happened to me? Why won't anybody tell me anything? _What had she done before waking up here? What kind of person had she been? What sort of _life _had she led? She didn't remember, and she felt like crying, was crying; at least she thought she was. But her body was so dehydrated that all that came out were heaving convulsions vacant of tears.

_Trrrrrrrkkkk_.

It was a tinkering sound, sharp and high that ended in a crunch, and instantly all eyes were fixed solidly on her. Or beside her, at the leaking pitcher of water that now had a long, uneven crack running up the side.

"What the heck-" Bulma wondered aloud, hurrying over and running the ball of her index finger against the cracked glass. Krillin shrugged.

"Too cold maybe? You packed it full of ice."

"That doesn't happen!" the woman retorted, rolling her eyes at the shorter man's lackluster excuse. She turned back to the bed, staring hard at the girl in it. "You OK?"

A stupid question, she thought angrily. And suddenly she was exhausted. That brief surge of adrenaline that had accompanied her upon waking was rapidly beginning to fade. Suddenly she just wanted to sleep. Maybe she could sort this out herself. Didn't amnesia patients need to regain their memories back on their own? Without the help of others? Isn't that what doctors normally told a patient's families? At least, she _guessed _that was what was wrong with her. She vaguely remembered learning that from somewhere. She was hurt, or somehow had been at some point and time. Some point that she didn't remember, obviously, and from the condition of her seemingly dilapidated body.

She was afraid to look in a mirror.

She closed her eyes, trying to will the thoughts away from her head. They inked their way through anyway, even though the rest of her body seemed fatigued and immobile. Distantly, she was aware of Krillin and Bulma leaving the room; they thought she was asleep. I'll come back and check on her later, Krillin was whispering quietly. No, there's a camera in the corner; we can observe her from the lab, came the low reply. And then they were talking about androids, and finding the androids before- And then the door shut and she was alone.

And when next she opened her eyes, she was dreaming.


	2. Blood and Mirrors

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ…

Chapter Two:: Blood and Mirrors

She awoke slowly curled on her side, knees drawn up to her chest in the fetal position. Gingerly she rolled on her back. The pain was there, dull and slight, but at least it wasn't overwhelming. And her eyes didn't hurt as much; probably because the room was dark.

Her mind assessed this slowly.

She was alone, and it was dark. And those people were gone. However, she still had no idea what was going on. And-

And she was thirsty. Ravenously so. Her throat felt raw, so much so that she was certain, at least this time, that there was definitely blood in her throat. Carefully she peeled back the covers, immediately noticing that the IV was still attached to her arm. But there was something… Something beside the pole of the IV, on the bedside table.

Water.

She snatched wildly at the pitcher, putting it eagerly to her lips and drinking sloppily in great gulps. The liquid slid coolly down her throat, and she could feel it settle in her stomach. And then the pitcher was empty and she was panting heavily, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. Probably more water had fallen on the bed and on _her_ than had gotten down her throat, but at least she'd _had_ some. Almost immediately her head felt clearer, and the aches in her body seemed to lesson some. She set the pitcher down, noticing that there was something else on the table. It smelled delicious, and before she knew it, she was scooping it up in her hands, shoveling it down her throat voraciously.

Rice and vegetables. Noodles. Teriyaki chicken. She didn't question how she knew what the stuff was; that was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that she was eating as if she'd never eaten before, desperate and greedy and licking every last drop from the bowls and her fingers. And when she was done she sat back, closing her eyes and sighing with more zest than she'd known she _had_. And for the first time she noticed - _really_ noticed - her surroundings.

She was in a room. A small room, sparsely furnished save for the bed, the bedside table and- she squinted. What was that over there? Across the room? Up on the wall above that table? Despite her newfound energy, her eyesight, though significantly clearer, was still slightly blurred. Or perhaps it was simply the darkness around her which inhibited her sight. She braced herself, taking a deep breath, and without fully thinking threw her legs over the side of the bed and moved all her weight along with it.

She stayed standing, much to her surprise. Well, with a little support from the bed behind her, that is. She held on to the IV pole and wheeled herself slowly across the room, taking small staccato steps. A mirror. The strange silver glint she'd seen had been a mirror.

_Mirror Mirror on the wall_… She paused. Did she really want to look? She didn't need confirmation to tell her how she looked. Like a corpse, if not worse. She could see it in her hands, in the small decrepit legs beneath her. She saw it in the way those people had looked at her, pityingly, if their carefully controlled expressions had been any indication.

No. She decided. She would not look. Not yet. And maybe it was cowardly, but she just didn't think she had the strength to deal with whatever face greeted her in the mirror. She'd wait. _Yes_, she decided backing away. She would wait. _Maybe in a few days. Maybe_-

It happened so suddenly that she nearly fell over. The feeling hit her like a shockwave. Someone was in the room. How she knew this, she could only guess. Instead she whipped around, bumping into the small end table below the mirror and nearly tearing the needle of IV from her arm. She stared, warily facing the form leaning casually against the wall near the door.

He had his arms crossed in the corner of the room, the boy. How long he'd been there, she had no idea. It had been beyond her line of vision, thanks to her poor eye sight. And then there was sudden light, not much, but enough of it to see clearly around the room now. She hadn't seen him flick a switch, but obviously he'd somehow activated something. Now she could clearly see the room, still slightly cloaked in shadows. There was a lone window on the opposite end, across from her bed. The curtains were tightly drawn, but even so she could still see that it was night. Beneath her bare feet the floor was cold, but she could do nothing but stare nervously at the boy across the room.

"You're up." He said flatly. In the dim light she thought she could see traces of blue in his lilac hair. Was he the one who had brought her the food? What had they called him? _Trunks_? And what was _her_ name? Why was-

"He made you differently, I see." The boy, Trunks, spoke again, interrupting her racing thoughts. Though she wasn't sure if he was talking to her, or just thinking out loud. "_You_ actually _need_ to eat. _You_ need water. I don't know why he would include that in your design." He stopped, taking a step forward, and she eyed him carefully. This was a person who did not like her. And yet here he was, in a room, alone with her. _But why?_

"What was it you were created for?" and then he paused, a derisive laugh escaping his throat. "Never mind. I already know. It's the same thing everything _he's_ ever created was made for, right?" She frowned. What was he talking about? Her muddled mind couldn't seem to sort out his words. As fast as she soaked them in, he was speeding onward, talking again.

"But you won't get the chance. I won't let you destroy this world. We already have enough on our hands as it is. And you should never have been activated-"

_Activated_? What was he talking about? The first signs of pure fear washed over her, and she was suddenly aware that they were alone; very much so. She wasn't even sure if there was anybody else nearby in the building. She was alone with this boy, who was sounding very mentally unstable, and-

She stepped back, stumbling over the IV and causing it to inadvertently rip from her arm. The metal pole clattered to the floor, and sharp pain erupted at once in her arm. She instinctively grabbed it, feeling something warm and wet slip through her fingers.

Blood. Bright and red, trickling from the needle wound. She ignored it, trying to find a way to get around the handsome boy who now blocked her path to the door. The only other exit was the window, but it was closed and she had no desire to punish her already aching body by jumping through glass. But-

_This boy was_…! …well, she didn't know _what_ he was planning, to be honest, but it couldn't be good. Her mind was screaming warnings at her, and the primal survival instinct that suddenly took over was telling her to flee.

She stared up at him terrified. But he was no longer looking at her. His attention was focused completely on her arm. Her _bleeding_ arm. His face bore an unreadable expression. And then he looked up fixing her with that serious look. He frowned, brows pulled together noting perhaps the wetness on her cheeks.

Wetness?

She brought her hand gingerly to her face. Yes, it was there. She was crying. She had no idea who she was, why she was here, and where she had come from. An angry lilac haired boy probably wanted her dead for reasons only he could comprehend-

And no one had told her anything still.

"You're- we interrupted the process. That's why you seem so helpless. That's why you don't remember anything. And that's why you have no power." He spoke softly, matter-of-factly, turning away from her and making her go still with shock.

"But," he continued, "you're dangerous; regardless of outward appearances-" he stopped. He seemed to be struggling mentally, trying to convince himself of something, and his eyes went back to the small pool of blood that had gathered at her feet.

She wasn't going to wait for him to decide.

MOVE! She flung herself past him, willing her body to go. It resisted. Her limbs screamed with pain, her lungs burned from the sudden exertion, but the blurred door was fast approaching. _Go_, her mind screamed. _GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Her hand reached out; she made a lunge towards the door handle-

And suddenly she was being jerked back, thrown into the wall, fingers digging hard into her shoulders. Her head hit the wall with a dull thud, and for a moment she saw stars. And then her dazed vision was clearing, her hands going out to claw furiously at his face, at his eyes, legs flailing wildly. It didn't last long.

In a frightening turn of events she found herself pinioned, flipped, cheek pressed painfully against the cold wall, body sandwiched uncomfortably between it and the boy.

"That was stupid," he said softly from behind, still holding her arms at her back in a vice-like grip. She whimpered, and the tears flowed freely now. Why was he doing this?! Why was he-

"Because I know what you are," he answered, as if he'd heard her unspoken question. Or had it been unspoken? Maybe she'd really asked it, words weren't the most important thing on her mind at present.

"There is no place on this earth for such dangerous creatures. I know what you were destined to do. To _become_. And I…I was destined to stop it. I'm sorry." This last part was whispered, said with such feeling that she could almost believe he regretted his actions. And then something warm was being pressed into her back. The warmth grew into prickly discomfort. And then it was hot. White hot, scorching.

The last thing she remembered seeing was the vision of two slitted, reptilian eyes staring calmly into the reflection of a passing department store window.

oOo

She awoke with a start.

The sun that streamed into her room was bright and warm. And blinding. She blinked haphazardly, rolling over, burrowing further under the sheet. Instantly a dull pain assaulted her, followed by a blinking of memories.

Blood, fear, an explosion- had it all been a dream? At some point during the night she _had_ dreamed, she was sure.…

But which had been real? Certainly not the part about the green monster. But what about the boy, Trunks? The blood? The scorching heat he'd thrown into her back-

She immediately felt behind her.

Nothing. No pain, no discomfort. Not even a tear in her gown. Maybe it _had_ been a dream…

Except that the IV was gone from her arm.

And suddenly she was wide awake. No IV? Had someone taken it away during the night, or…

..or had that episode really happened? She studied her arm. Still bone thin and frail, but no longer quite the dusky, washed out color it had been before. It was a warmer tone now, somewhere between cinnamon and walnut, healthier looking, and completely unmarred. There was no sign of the yanked out needle, no sign there had ever been anything inserted into her arm at all.

A dream….?

She flung back the covers and dove to the other side of the room, towards something she knew, from memory, was there.

The mirror.

It was in the exact same place as it had been the previous night, confirming her suspicions. She stopped, the same as she had before, just before seeing her reflection. And just as before, a sudden fear assaulted her. She _couldn't_ look at that face, not now. In the bright sunlit room, reality seemed so far away. But something…_something was wrong with her._ _Something_ had happened that had left her severely……

Depleted? _No_, weak was a better word, she decided. Corpse-like probably even more so. But then again, she had no memory of her life before she woke up. Perhaps if she saw her reflection – however briefly - maybe she'd get some flash of memory, remember something from her past…

It was worth a shot, right? She took a hesitant step forward-

_No_. She squeezed her eyes shut, turned away. She suddenly wanted the mirror out of the room. It was too much of a temptation, too much of a lure. She'd look if she wasn't careful, even against her will she wasn't sure if she could stop herself. _I'll put it outside. I'll turn it face down outside the room and someone will take it away-_

In the next moment she had the frame in her hand; it was really no longer than a foot. A cheap wall mirror someone had entered as an afterthought, perhaps. She wanted to break it, fling it on the floor and be rid of it. But then there would be shards, shards containing dozens and dozens of reflections-

She marched to the door, grabbing it firmly and pulling the handle.

It wouldn't budge. Stuck, maybe? Or maybe she just wasn't pulling hard enough. _Or maybe they've locked you in_, another thought surmised. Again that fear hit her, wild, irrational. They'd locked her in. There was a mirror in her hand, if she didn't get out she couldn't get rid of the mirror--

She tried again, harder this time, perhaps a little desperately. This time it swung disjointedly open.

She laid the mirror face down at wall the beside the door. Almost immediately the obsessive thoughts fled, and she was left breathing hard standing in a long, empty hallway. An empty, _unfamiliar_ hallway. It had never occurred to her what was actually behind the door of her room. Simply opening her eyes had been a struggle that first time. But now…now faced with the unknown before her, she felt the childish urge to run back inside the room and climb into bed. It was safe in the room, shut off from the world. Away from mirrors and reflections… She would wait. She would go back in the room and wait for someone to come.

But even as she thought this, she was already moving, slowly drifting down the corridor, bare feet sinking deep within the plush, khaki carpet.

Several doors lined the hall, all looking exactly the same, all closed. She'd actually tried one of them, a half hearted tug on the handle, but it had been locked. She paused then, holding her breath. Was that a voice she heard? Up ahead? She sped up, hopeful. She didn't want to be alone. She _didn't_-

And suddenly she was staring into the entrance of what she guessed was a lounge. There was a large theatre sized flat screen in the center of the room, and a futon directly in front of it, with someone sitting in the exact middle, engrossed in the television. A pretty brunette was speaking earnestly into the camera.

And behind her, was complete chaos.

Cars, people, police vehicles, fire trucks..it looked like a disaster scene from a movie. Only mildly interested, she inched inside.

"_-town, leaving behind a trail of destruction. The Nikki Town monster, as officials have dubbed it, seems to actually be __**absorbing**__ the bodies of people, though there is still no information at this time to confirm __**why**__ it is doing this or even where it came from..."_

Monster? Hmn. Some sort of horror flick. A very low budget one at that. Still she leaned forward. The television had her full attention now, and she wondered just what it was the little bald man on the futon was watching.

"_Local authorities are pushing a mandatory evacuation, and it is strongly advisable that-" _

The screen showed images of screaming people, a street littered with clothing, then clipped to rows of cars congested in traffic. All, apparently, trying to leave town. A _Channel 3 News_ icon was in the corner of the screen, and below it, trailing words slid across the screen and-

Wait. Was this _real_? She'd coined it as a film, but the trailing words were reminiscent of some sort of emergency broadcast message, though she was too far away to read it. Before her, the bald head leaned forward.

Then the screen clipped to another scene, this time seemingly caught from an amateur video tape. The lens kept going in and out of focus, and screaming people, in their hast to flee, kept bumping into the camera and crossing into its view. The cameraman it seemed, was oblivious to this, intent only on catching whatever it was he was focused on. There. The Camera had stopped, but the cameraman couldn't seem to stop shaking enough to take a clear shot. She squinted her eyes and silently willed the man to hold still.

The image was fuzzy at first, unfocused and blurry, much like her vision had been that first day. There was green, a lot of green, with a tail that was-

Suddenly the camera cleared momentarily, fading almost back blurry instantly, but she had seen it. The face, the build. The eyes.

She didn't realize she was screaming until the man slammed off the television.

"What?! How did you- Why are _you_….what are you _doing_?!!" He looked frantic, nervous, suspicious and definitely frightened, even.

She didn't answer, staring behind him at the now dead TV set.

"_What was that_?!," she asked instead, gesturing towards the set. "What are you watching?" Her voice was crackly, as though she had a cold and was still getting over it.

"How did you get out of your room?!" he demanded instead. His hands were clinched into fists, legs apart, in a slightly defensive position. His voice was steadier, but his eyes, small and beady, were darting nervously about. His nervousness was catching. It made _her_ nervous, watching him like that.

"I…I opened the door."

There was a moment of silence. She heard the hum the lights in the ceiling. And then-

"You opened the door." This was repeated dumbly, as though he couldn't believe she'd be able to do such a thing. She felt mildly insulted before remembering that the last time they'd seen her, the last time _she_ remembered seeing _them_, at least, she had barely been able to talk. _Of_ _course_ he was surprised to see her up and out of bed.

"You opened the door," he said again, and this time he laughed softly, a hand absently swiping across his shiny bald head. He cleared his throat, and when his eyes met hers again, they were strangely shuttered. She'd caught him off guard before, but he seemed to have recovered.

"Of course you did. I should have guessed you'd be able to." And then he was walking towards her, brushing past her, very carefully not touching her as he went by. She felt suddenly small.

"C'mon. Let's get you back to your room before Bulma finds out. I was supposed to be watching you, y'know." He gave a nervous laugh, the bright orange of his clothing contrasting sharply with the muted colors around them.

She followed silently behind.

oOo

Authors Note: I want to take the time to thank those of you who reviewed the first chapter. Your encouragement was very much appreciated. **Sesshoumarusmisstress**, **Weird Gurl Defining Reality**, **ShadowPrincess-Shekailaia**, **the nameless anonymous reviewer**, **Persephonii**, **sdfa**, **Zaya Ayame** and **Rebecca**.


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